Night Terrors
by Ashtree1165
Summary: After a near death experience with the Joker, Jason wakes to find himself in none other than Wayne Manor. One-shot for now. May or may not become more.


It was a nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

He was asleep and this was just another nightmare.

No matter how many times he told himself that, he just couldn't bring himself to believe it. Because despite the fact it was just a lowly terror of his sleep dreamt up by his subconscious state, it was also _so much more_.

It was a memory.

It was _his_ memory.

He'd died before. Felt the ache, the pain, the heart stopping panic and fear as you felt your body give in and you experienced your very last moments on earth. As you breathed your very last breath. He'd lived through it all, he'd relived it over and over in his dreams. It haunted him through the nights and plagued his sleep. Never giving him a moment of well earned peace.

It was a still, quiet night outside Wayne Manor. Jason tossed and turned in his sleep, his restlessness reaching new heights. He moaned helplessly, his head tossing from left to right as he lay upon a bed that was once his. In a room that once belonged to him. In a house he once dared to call his home.

His usual night terrors plagued his sleep just as expected of them. But it was also much, much more.

Something more recent, something still so _fresh_ in his mind.

_He could feel the sharp, barbs of the chain dig into his thigh, biting into his skin so tightly he was sure it could sever it. The calm facade of his carefully crafted mask had long since slipped. The panic that had began to rise was now uncontrollable._

_He hung, dangling from the rafters of Ace Chemicals old abandoned factory. His heart was beating a mile a minute. His head was pounding a fierce drum beat against his skull. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus. The only thoughts going through his head were ones of panic, of needing to get down. Of the barbed chain in which he hung from digging into his flesh and drawing blood._

_A pained cry escaped his bloody lips as he swayed, causing the iron chain to dig into him even further. On instinct, he reached up, clutching the chain with one gloved hand and one bare hand. The barbs cutting through the pale skin of his gloveless hand, crimson blood flowing freely from the fresh wounds and trailing down his arm._

_Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of the Joker laughing hysterically from one of the catwalks. But he was too focused, too concerned with the not so subtle tightening of the chain around his thigh. The barbs slicing deeper and deeper into his flesh, embedding themselves into muscle, severing tendons and connecting with bone! _

Jason woke up screaming, his throat raw and bloodied, absolute terror racing through his veins. He was sat bolt upright, his grey t-shirt (funny, we're had that come from?) sweat drenched and blue eyes red rimmed and bloodshot.

It took him a moment to gather his bearings, to remember just were he was. Wayne Manor, his old room. It was just the way he left it, completely untouched by the years of his absence.

He instinctively grabbed for his thigh, pain flailing up from his wound. The blankets had fallen away, revealing the blood seeping through his previously prestine white bandages and checked pajama bottoms. He could hear rushed footfalls hurry down the halls, pausing hesitantly just outside his door. He didn't want to see whoever it was, probably Alfred or the Replacement, whoever it was, he just wanted them to _go away_. He didn't need help. He didn't meet _their_ help. He didn't need _anyone's_ help.

Jason involuntarily flinched as the door was clicked open. It was Bruce, a man he once dared to call his father, a man he once looked up to. Bruce hurried to his side, an unsure expression clouding his features. "Jason?"

"B- Bruce?"

The older man gently sat down beside his would-be-son, the mattress bowing softly with his added weight.

It was then Jason realised he was shaking, his whole body wracked with painful shivers. "Bruce. Wh- what are you doing here?" Jason asked shakily, confused on why Bruce seemed to actually care.

"I heard your shouts from down the hall."

"S- sorry to w- w- w- wake you," he only half apologised.

Bruce shook his head, "I wasn't asleep. I couldn't, not with you up here like this."

Bruce was worried about him?

Jason laughed at the obsurdity of it, a single, harsh laugh. "D- don't you have more important things to do than w- worry about me?" As if to punctuate his sentence, Jason groaned painfully and folded in on himself, his grip tightening on his bleeding leg.

"Jason?"

"M' fine," he managed through tightly clenched teeth.

Bruce didn't believe him in the slightest. His fatherly instincts kicking in, he hurriedly scrambled through the bedside table drawer, retreaving a pill bottle and grabbing the glass of water he left on the dresser. He carefully shook out two, small, purple pills and handed them along with the glass to Jason, who took them with shaking hands. Not even bothering to ask what the pills were.

Jason quickly swallowed the pills and downed the full glass of room temperature water. The liquid felt like a cool remedy for his dry, aching throat. After handing the emptied glass back to Bruce and the medicine began to kick in, calming his shaking limbs and racing heart, he noticed the moisture upon his red cheeks.

He was crying.

_He was crying._

Jason wiped both his cheeks with the back of his hands. Embarrassed to be caught showing such weakness infront of anyone, especially infront of Batman. Especially infront of Bruce.

In his defense, he had nearly lost his leg just a day before.

"M' fine, you don't have to pretend to care about me."

Bruce's brow furrowed, "Jason I've never _pretended_ to care about you. I've never stopped caring about you. And when Tim radios me in the middle of the night, saying he's found you -barely alive- while on patrol, I wasn't about to just leave you there."

Jason doesn't understand. And he's pretty sure his face conveys as much, because Bruce gives him _that look_. The 'Daddy Bats' look as he recalls once naming it when he was younger. It was the same look he got whenever he messed up big and got himself hurt. It wasn't disappointment, just concern. Mixed with what he could only think of as frustration. It was an expression of pure fatherly love, and it irked him to the bone. It was the same look he'd received when he'd crashed that stollen car chasing after a baddie out of costume. The second he was released from the hospital he was grounded for a month. A month in which he definitely did not sneak out. At all. Nope. If Jason Todd was anything, he was a rule follower. One-hundred percent not a trouble maker.

And Bruce would believe that as soon as Superman would steal a pack of gum.

Bruce repositioned himself on the bed, so that he was facing Jason more properly. He wasn't good at the emotion sharing part of things, his relationship with Dick was well enough proof of that. But he'd promissed to never make those same mistakes again, Jason deserved better than that. He knew Dick did as well, but he'd mend that bridge another time. That much he vowed. "Jason, you're always welcome here," he started. "The manor is as much your home as it is mine or Alfred's, if... if you want it to be that is."

Jason swallowed, his eyes filling with moisture. He chalked it up to the drugs, but really he knew that was a lie. "I..." He wanted to say yes. Yes, god yes! Of course he'll stay! He'd like nothing more than to never leave this very room again. To spend all his nights right here, in this bed, just down the hall from Bruce. To have movie nights like they used to and fall asleep on the couch and wake up the next morning in bed. What he'd give for life to just go back to normal for the two of them. For it to be just the two of them against the world like it used to be.

But he'd had his run -had his time as the Boy Wonder. But just as all things rise, all things must fall. He knew his place now. He wasn't about to let childish fantasies cloud his judgement.

He'd done things not even he could forgive. And he'd long sice excepted that.

He could say anything, make whatever promises he wanted. But they would be nothing more than empty hollow words. For no matter what he told Bruce now, when the man woke the next morning, Jason would be long gone.

"Jason? Bruce?"

Both aforementioned men turned to find the sixteen year old Tim Drake-Wayne lingering in the doorway, clad in Batman pajama pants and a Gotham Knights t-shirt. Rubbing sleep from his eyes and brushing his mused hair down in a halfhearted attempt to tame his bed head, he trudged closer, positioning himself at Bruce's side. "Are we having one of those unofficial family meeting things that ends in someone either pissed off or crying? Because it's really far too early for that. And don't we need Alfred for one of those anyway? I think-"

"_Kid_," Jason took the liberty of shutting him up.

"Sorry, I ramble when I'm tired."

Bruce huffed a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "Tim, why don't you head back to bed?"

"Alright, I just heard you guys from down the hall and wanted to make sure no one was strangling anyone," Tim explained with a yawn. "So far so good. Everything seems to check out," he gave them both the thumbs up as backed towards the open door. "Keep up the good work, I'd rather not wake up and find either of you dead. Violence isn't the answer, Jason I'm looking at you-"

"_Tim_! Go to bed," Bruce insisted.

"Aye, aye," with a sloppy salute he slipped from the room and scurried back down the hall.

Bruce ran a hand through his dark hair, "he means well."

Jason couldn't hide his small smirk. The kid, his _replacement_ was a good kid. Quite the good Robin as well, he couldn't deny that much.

"You should get some sleep yourself Bruce," Jason suggested. "Don't need you being late to any business meetings."

Bruce smiled sadly, knowing this would be goodbye. He wasn't a fool. He knew that when the morning light came over the horizon line, Jason would be long gone. He ran a hand through Jason's hair. The white, the only visible mark left by the Lazerus Pit, peaking through the black. He needed to redye it, he mused to himself. "Just... be more careful," he practically whispered, retreating from the room.

Jason slunk down in his sheets as Bruce shut the door gently behind him.

**Thank you for reading a please review. If this gets enough reviews, I'm thinking of making this a chapter fic. Idk whatever you guys want.**


End file.
